Next Stop
by Valerie E. Mackin
Summary: She finally makes it back to Connor's place. Second story in my Boondock Saints OC story arc, set directly after Missed Stop. Rated M for smut, language, and broken doors. Re-edited, hopefully got all the typos this time. Sneaky buggers.


_Author's Note: I'd like to give a special thanks to __pitbullsrok__, an amazing Boondocks author who read over this story, convinced me it was worth publishing, and helped me realize I was crazy to think otherwise. Check out her stuff, too. It's definitely where I get some of my inspiration. This is a direct sequel to Missed Stop, the second story in my Boondock Saints OC story arc. Thanks for all the fantastic reviews everyone left for my other stories! Enjoy!_

I would ask myself what I could possibly be thinking just now, but that would take all the fun out of tonight. Because, let's face it, I'm not really trying to think too hard about what I'm about to do.

Logic is usually a huge buzz kill.

I should probably feel embarrassed or sluttish, but really, all that's going through my head as Connor leads me into the bar is that I'm afraid I'm going to chicken out before we get to his place; hence why I'm not thinking too hard about anything right now. Then he turns and flashes that crooked half-smile at me.

Okay, good to go.

The second we walk through the door, something like ten people grab Connor and drag him into the room, and it seems like the entire place is calling out some form of greeting (most of them rather explicit). I should feel out of place in what is obviously his usual hang out, a bar full of (to me) complete strangers, but this place is so homey and everyone's so welcoming, it's like hanging out at a friend's house or something. I get almost as many slaps on the back, a few of them landing just a tad lower than necessary, as Connor as he pulls me over to the bar. On the walk over from the subway, Connor said something about stopping by to "warn his brother," so I'm guessing they share a place.

He leads me right up to two dark haired men, one who resembles what I would think of as a loveable version of a cave man, and the other I can only see from the back. The second guy turns on his stool as we approach, and I know immediately this has to be Connor's brother. They obviously aren't identical twins or anything, but there's just something intangible there. Maybe the shape of their faces or their raw good looks. Maybe their piercing blue eyes.

Or maybe just the cocky smirk (saw one just like it on Connor back on the subway) tugging at the corner of his mouth when he spots my hand in his brother's. That's probably it.

"So's this th'girl ye been stalkin' on the train, there, Connor?" Oh, so _that's_ where I left my blush; apparently it was in this bar I've never been to before with a bunch of people I've never met. Should have checked there first.

"Watch yer fuckin' mouth, Murphy. Don't scare this one away like ye do all th'ones ye try to bring home!" This, delivered along with a hard smack to the side of his face, confirms that they are in fact brothers, so I introduce myself to the other man, face still flaming, and I learn that a) his name is Rocco; and b) this level of violence is par for the course with the brothers.

Rocco grins at my embarrassment and cuffs me on the shoulder in commiseration. I bet he's had his share of ego blows after spending time with these two. Murphy grins and starts to say something to me again, but Connor cuts him off.

"Shut it, Murph, I need t'speak wit'ye." Connor breaks off into what I think might be German. I do my best to keep a straight face as I listen to them go back and forth, with Murphy's smirk only getting bigger. I swear, if he throws that thing my way again, I might just melt from humiliation…among other things.

Did I mention they're both excruciatingly hot?

Rocco and I make a little small talk, which mostly results in both of us realizing I am absolutely clueless about the man I'm going home with, something Rocco finds hysterical, but he does his best to reassure me of both the boys' many virtues.

"But I'm not going home with both of them," I point out, a flush still lingering on the edges of my face.

He shrugs, unphased by my protest. "You go home with one, you go home with both," he says, signaling for another beer. He offers me a drink, but I politely turn him down. "Don't get me wrong, hun, I ain't sayin' you're gonna sleep with 'em both, or nothin', but if you're with one MacManus, you're with both of 'em. They're like a matched set, or some shit, ya know?"

Well, _now_ I do. I was busy with other things on the train besides getting Connor's family history. Silly me. At least now I know his last name.

I lapse into silence, not really knowing what to say after that exchange. Rocco smiles knowingly one last time, and turns to say something to a passing waitress that earns him a slap to the face. After a couple more remarks from his brother (still unintelligible for me), Connor simply punches Murphy, nearly knocking him off his stool, and snaps, "Just fuckin' do this fer me, Murph, a'right?" and then he turns and pulls me away.

"Don't be too rough wit' me little brother, there, lass! He's delicate, that one!" Murphy calls as we head out the door. I can hear Rocco and Murphy's laughter among the general commotion of the crowd until the door shuts behind us.

I glance at Connor as we walk down the street and hide my smile as he glowers into the night.

"So…" Trying to break the ice, "Do you…punch your brother often?" It's the first thing I can think of. I've got nothing.

He glances at me for a long moment, then finally cracks a smile. "Weren't nothin'. He's just bein' a dick and givin' me shit about havin' ye wit' me. I s'pose I mighta mentioned ye a time or two before tonight (_my stomach flutters at this information…he did what with the when now?_), so he feels he needs t'take the piss outta me when he can. He's either gonna stay out fer a few extra hours or just crash at our friend Rocco's place fer th'night. Either way, I wanted t'make sure we've got some time fer ourselves, since I know y'don't like an audience." I'm treated to another patented McManus smirk after that remark. Such splendid family resemblances.

I figured he wasn't really pissed off, but it's nice to know for certain; I don't like causing tension. After just a couple more blocks, we're at his building, and the second we're in the elevator, he reminds me of exactly why I followed him home in the first place. His hands are on the side of my face, and I'm pressed tight between him and the walls of the elevator as he explores every corner of my mouth with his tongue. I wind my hands in his already-disheveled hair, loving the feel of it between my fingers. I moan as his stubble rubs harshly against my face and his tongue slides against mine. His hand is just on the verge of some interesting territory when the elevator stops, and Connor pulls away long enough to lead me through some kind of storage room, through a door, and into his place.

There're only a couple of lights on, but I can see okay in the dimness. Pizza boxes and beer cans are the main mode of decor, and everything that's not technically furniture seems to be doing double duty as ash trays. I don't think anyone's cleaned in here since before it stopped being whatever sort of warehouse or business it originally was. There are two mattresses on the far side of the room, something that was probably a sofa in a former life, a couple of chairs, and a table or two. The toilet and shower are right out in plain view. Still, it's far from the worst I've ever seen. Hell, I've lived in worse since I left home when I was a teenager.

He glances back at me a moment, a guarded expression on his face, waiting for me to say something. I bet some girl has given the boys shit about their lack of cleaning skills in the past, but it's not my place to judge. I hate cleaning as much as the next person, so I remove my coat and drop my things onto the couch, raising my eyebrows and giving him a shrug.

"I promise not to scream as long as nothing crawls on me?"

He grins and pulls me up against him, gently bumping his forehead on mine. "Are y'sure that's t'only thing's gonna make ye scream tonight, lass?"

Is that the Million Dollar Question, or what?

Before I can form my thoughts into coherent words, his coat is off, his mouth is covering mine, and he's pulling my shirt up all at the same time. Once the proper order of execution is sorted out, he moves on to divesting me of my pants, something I'm more than happy to help with, and my underwear is discarded along with it. I start to work on removing his shirt, but then he kisses me hard and runs his tongue over my closed lips until I remember to help out with that part, too, and meet him halfway.

In between kisses and heavy groping from both parties, I finally manage to get his shirt off, and I find myself majorly distracted by exploring his bare chest with my fingers and mouth. I feel particularly smug when my teeth scraping over one of his nipples elicits a rather unmanly noise from him.

He feels the need to extract revenge, however, because the next thing I know, my bra is gone, I'm against the door, and Connor's mouth and hands are all over my chest. Shivers run up and down my spine, and I moan involuntarily when he sucks hard on the sensitive skin underneath my breast. Glad no one will be able to see that bruise.

Swallowing my moans, I pull his face back up for another kiss; I can't get enough. I fumble for a minute, but I'm finally able to undo his jeans, which he kicks off as soon as they hit the floor. His boxers are flung across the room next, landing who knows where, and I pause, blinking hesitantly at my first sight of Connor naked.

Whoa.

I wonder nervously for a moment if I'm going to be able to handle him; it's been a _long_ time since I've had sex, and he's…um…

Well…so, yeah.

He steps back just a bit, his face is maybe two inches from mine, and he smiles reassuringly, as if he knows what I'm thinking. I start to look away, embarrassment taking over again, but then he places his hands gently on each side of my face, forcing me to look straight into his eyes. I couldn't move now if I wanted to. Never breaking eye contact, Connor slowly, torturously traces his fingers down my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders. He traces circles on my shoulder blades, pulling me away from the door a little, and I let out a startled mewl at the sensation, but I can't look away from him.

I squirm under his touch, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, not sure how much longer I can take this leisurely pace, and he smirks at my impatience. Instead of speeding up, though, he simply places my arms around his neck before continuing his excruciating fingertip exploration.

His fingers run over the sensitive area just under my shoulder blades making the muscles there jump, then traces the skin of my lower back, making me twitch and involuntarily grab his upper arms for support. He leans forward now, his lips against my ear and his arms around me, his breath warming my neck, and he's murmuring something to me.

"Y'feel like pickin' up where we left off on the train, then?" His fingers press hard into my ass cheeks, and he lifts me easily, sandwiching me between himself and the door. My legs are around him, and now there's no jeans, no fabric, absolutely nothing between us. I want him so badly I'm burning with it. I can't help the plea that squeaks out as a whisper against his ear.

"Please…"

Apparently, I don't need to ask him twice.

With a slight shift and sharp thrust, he's inside me, and the entire world narrows to one single connection between me and this almost-stranger. I let out a hoarse gasp, my arms wrapped tight around him, my face buried in his neck, and I know some word comes out of my mouth, though I'm not sure what. I can feel the tension in his muscles as he strains to hold this position without moving as he gives me a chance to adjust to him. When he shifts just a little it's like there's a tiny jolt through my entire universe for just a second.

I nod just a fraction against him, letting him know I'm ready, and he starts a slow, smooth rhythm. Every plunge stokes something deep inside me, I'm almost crying with need now. My nails are in his back at some point, and I know I'm adding to the scratches from earlier. He bucks harder now, and I don't want him to stop, don't want him to slow down…except, I don't want this to end anytime soon, either, and…Oh, God…

_CRACK!_

"Shit!"

"Th'fuck!"

I'm not sure which of us says what, but both of us feel the shift in the door, even though I'm in another galaxy I feel it, and suddenly, we're disconnected, and I'm standing on the floor (how did I get here?) with Connor between me and the door, one of his arms in from of me as if to shield me from something. Both of our chests are heaving from exertion and shock. I glance at him and find him glancing back at me, so I raise my eyebrows and shake my head. I have no idea.

He looks back at the door, and now I notice it's not quite sitting straight anymore. I look over at one of the hinges, and it's somehow…separated a bit. Well, okay, a lot actually.

Oops.

I start laughing, I can't help it, and Connor looks at me like I'm nuts. I shake my head, unable to stop giggling but not wanting him to think I'm laughing at him, and point at the broken hinge. He glances at it, and I can see the realization dawn on his face, which makes me laugh even harder. He shakes his head at the door for a moment, then turns back to me suddenly and pulls me hard against him, startling me into silence. His blues eyes pierce mine with a look of such absolute want that I can't make a sound as he practically growls at me.

"Guess we'll just have t'find a more stable location."

I don't remember getting from the door to his mattress, but suddenly we're there. Connor pulls himself around behind me and I'm facing the wall, both of us on our knees. His lips are tracing fire down my neck and shoulder as his hands roughly knead my breasts. My hands connect with the wall, the only thing keeping me from face planting, because my legs are definitely not going to hold me up.

While his tongue and right hand continue their current occupations, his left hand traces a tickling line down my belly, across my inner thigh, and down between my legs to begin stroking my clit. At the same time, Connor enters me suddenly from behind, and it's all I can do not to completely collapse against the wall. A wild cry tears all the way up from my toes as I pound back against him with a sudden sharp need. There's nothing in my head now except this: no doubts, no embarrassment, no worries or shame, just the single most focused desire I think I've ever felt in my life. I don't even recognize my voice, it's so low and rough when it comes out.

"Harder."

He grabs my hip with his left hand, his right hand joining mine on the wall for better leverage, and I swear at some point, my teeth start rattling with his force, but I'm not even close to complaining. I sure hope he doesn't have any close neighbors, because I can't control the sounds coming out of me anymore. I'm so close now, and all I want is the release.

I drag one hand away from the wall, still pushing back as hard as I can against Connor, and my fingers tangle into his hair as something inside me explodes, and I finally give him what he's been wanting since the train.

"_Oh, God, Connor…yes_!" Growl, moan, scream…There should be _one_ word that encompasses all three of these. Is it too cliché to talk about seeing fireworks? I can definitely see a flare, even if it's not actually light, and I think being struck by lightning shot down from the God of Sex would be the closest comparison I can use.

I can feel him convulse behind me at the sound of his name, and his arms constrict; there's a rumbling from his chest against my back, and he might actually be growling again. Sweat trickles between us as he rests his head against the back of mine, and I close my eyes, savoring the feel of everything: the aftershocks of my orgasm, the wetness between us, the heat rolling off of our bodies, the little tremors that still run through both of us in the aftermath, and the chill bite of the night air.

I don't know how long we're like that (I think we broke the flow of Time, at some point), but just as I start to shiver, Connor pulls us both down onto the mattress so I'm lying in the crook of his arm with my head resting on his chest. He pulls the blanket over both of us then tilts my chin up and kisses me softly, smiling.

Oh my, how his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

I make a noise that falls somewhere between a purr and a happy moan before sighing and laying my head on him again. Then a thought pops into my head out of nowhere, and I turn my own smirk up at Connor.

"Was I delicate enough with you to satisfy your brother? Because I think we did some pretty rough things to the door, and your back might have some new scars once those gouges heal. I don't want your older brother coming after me for roughing you up, or anything."

He barks out a laugh, and his arm tightens around me, pulling me a tad closer. "Nah, th'door's old and busted, anyway. An' Murph's not older, only t'inks he is. T'tell th'truth, and don't you dare repeat this, else I'll deny it, but we don't neither of us know exactly who's th'oldest, as our Ma's never told us." He pauses, then says in afterthought, "O'course, it's me, but we don't know' fer certain, y'understand."

So they're twins. Good grief, what have I gotten myself into? I digest this for a minute before remembering another important piece of information.

"So…you _were_ stalking me on the train after all?" I can actually feel a little extra heat coming off of him, and I'm glad that I'm not the one blushing this time.

"Well, now, y'see, 'tweren't actually stalkin', if I just happened to be goin' th'same way and just happened t'enjoy the available view in th'subway car nearly every night, was it?" He jerks a little and grabs my hand as I poke him in the ribs, but he's grinning again. "Th'first time I saw ye on th'train, I mighta come back to th'bar and mentioned seein' a fine lookin' woman to Murph and Roc. And…then a coupla days later, I mighta mentioned it again…so…"

He trails off, and I open my eyes a little wider. Surely he isn't…speechless?

"So, what were you planning on doing if I didn't make the first move with you? Creep on me some more while I slept?"

He grins and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Naw, lass, I was just goin' to bother ye till y'did somethin' 'bout that crush I knew y'had on me. Knew y'couldn't resist me fer too much longer. Seemed th'best course of action at th'time, and don'tcha feel better now 'cause I let ye be all bold and whatnot?"

Apparently tickle-wrestling can be just as good a transition into amazing sex as straight-up jumping someone.

My last thought before I drift off into a lust-sated coma in the arms of an amazingly hot no-longer-such-a-stranger is that I hope no one tries to break down the door anytime soon; it wouldn't be too difficult to get in at this point if they did.

I wake up with a jerk, I'm shivering so hard. I think I can feel my teeth rattling in a not-fun way this time, and I really thought that only happened in cartoons. I try to wrestle some of the blanket from Connor, but I think I'd have better luck not jumping him when he's naked and horny.

So this is how I die: freezing to death in a hot, quasi-stranger's apartment? Why the fuck are my clothes so far away?! I glance over at the other mattress, but the blanket is thrown on the far side, almost as far away as my clothes; besides, Connor said Murphy might be back eventually, and wouldn't that be interesting to explain: No, I'm sorry, you can't have your blanket back, because your brother is comatose and I'm naked.

I scrunch as close to Connor's back as I can get, trying to get any warmth leaking through the blanket. I've nearly made up my mind to brave the floor (I can't feel my feet at this point anyway), when I hear the elevator groan to a halt and shuffling footsteps coming towards the apartment. Yeah…and I'm still naked. I guess I can be grateful we're not in the middle of another round of sex, but jeez. I do my best to cover what I can, but all I can find are Connor's boxers (so _this_ is where they ended up). At least I can cover the essentials.

The door lets out a strangled groan as Murphy opens it, and I hear his tired, drunken voice make a confused sound that might be something along the lines of, "Th'fuck?"

I guess that phrase runs in the family.

Murphy shrugs and shuts the door behind him (it doesn't groan this time, but there's something ominous about the way it's hanging) and shuffles toward his mattress on my other side. He glances down at me as he passes, and though I'm still freezing on the outside, I'm strangely warm all of a sudden. I know my face (and probably my entire body, which happens to be completely visible right now) would be bright red if it weren't so dark in here, so I decide to just speak up since I'm already mortified to begin with. No need to get frostbite if I'm already as embarrassed as I can get and can't make this situation any worse.

"I don't suppose you have a spare blanket or something I can borrow?"

He stops in front of me, obviously staring, though I don't feel he's being rude. I give him a minute to let my question sink through the layers of alcohol.

"Nah, but I s'pose you c'n always crash over here wit'me. Y'ain't gonna get Connor to wake up 'less you run over him wit' a garbage truck or somethin'."

This throws me for a second. Hook up with a stranger then sleep with his brother all in the same night. Wow. I'm definitely having one of those need-to-go-to-confession-in-the-morning-even-though-I'm-not-Catholic nights.

Fuck it. Why not?

I start to scoot over towards his mattress in order to find shelter under his blanket when I realize he's shucking damn near all the clothing he has on. When he's down to his boxers, he glances over at me.

"Ya comin', girl?"

"I…uh…hmm." Apparently both of the boys just scare away all the brain cells I have that are in charge of intelligent speech. I glance down at my barely-covered self, then back up at him, biting my lip. I know I've had a bit of a sluttish night, but I have no intentions of sleeping completely naked with the underwear-only-clad (hot) brother of the (hot) man I've just slept with.

I'm so glad I didn't say that sentence out loud.

He smirks at me, catching onto my line of thinking, then reaches down and grabs his discarded t-shirt, tossing it over to me. I gratefully pull it on over my head (it's still warm, double yay!) and scoot my cold ass over to his mattress. He plops down, stretching out and holding his arm open for me. I hesitate only a moment then close the distance between us, figuring since I'm already in this deep it can't hurt. I sigh happily as Murphy tucks his blanket around us, then a thought occurs to me.

"Your brother won't mind? I mean, I just kind of met him for the first time tonight, and I don't want him to think that I…well…that I would…uh…" And of course, this one isn't going to make things easy for me, either. Jerk.

"That y'would what?" I'm not psychic by any stretch of the word, but I swear I can see trouble in that smirk of his, and I know most of it's for me. I glare at him and jab him hard in the ribs, annoyance once more making me bold, and I get some slight satisfaction from the yelp I receive.

"Don't be a jerk. I'm cold, you're tired and drunk, and I don't want your brother to think I'm more of a ho-bag than he probably already does."

He openly grins at me now, his face close to mine. "Ho-bag? Is that th'technical term, then, lass? Used t'call 'em street walkers and prostitutes in me Ma's day, I'll have t'update her on th'new terminology." I sigh and turn over, pressing my cold feet to his warm legs. He jumps a little at the contact; I guess he didn't realize just how cold I am. I pull the blanket tighter around me and rest my head on his shoulder.

Wrapped in the arms of my second strange man of the night, I start to drift off, letting my thoughts wander freely. I have no idea what tomorrow's going to be like, but since it's going to at least start with these two, I'm bound to be in trouble.

God have mercy, He made of two of them.

_One last author's note_: _This was the story that didn't want to get written, but it did. If you're reading these chronologically story-wise, your next stop will be Cold Feet. Enjoy, and please leave a little love in the small box at the door. Thanks!_


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